


Undercover, part 2

by Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness



Series: Prodigal Son [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: BDSM, Baby Boy!Malcolm, Blow Jobs, Daddy!Gil, Demisexual!Gil, Hand Jobs, I just realized Edrisa forgot to tell Gil about aftercare but he's a good dom, Kink discussion/negotiation, M/M, Pansexual!Malcolm, The 'dreese, he'll figure it out - Freeform, mentions of bipolar disorder, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness/pseuds/Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness
Summary: The aftermath of Undercover part 1, in which Gil has a long discussion about kink with Edrisa and then a long discussion with Malcolm and then finally when you think the discussion will never end he and Malcolm get it on.  #overlyhonestsummary
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Series: Prodigal Son [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124267
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	Undercover, part 2

**Author's Note:**

> This fic won't make much sense unless you read my first Prodigal Son fic, Undercover, first. Also, it's my first time writing The 'Dreese and I really hope I did her justice :).

It was late in the afternoon the next day before all of the paperwork was filed, the killer was booked, and Gil could take a much-needed rest; he’d been up all night. Worse, since Malcolm had disappeared soon after the bust, he hadn’t been able to corner the kid to talk about what had happened. Not that he had any idea what to say--he was deeply confused about it all. 

Gil grabbed his blazer from the coat hook, shrugging into it and picking up his briefcase before leaving his office and heading toward the door. He had made it almost all of the way there when he stopped, considering. If he was confused, Malcolm was likely confused as well, and a conversation between them at this point was likely to end poorly, or at least not go as well as it could. 

He sighed, turned on his heel, and walked back into the precinct. 

.oOOo.

Gil had to clear his throat three times before Edrisa looked up from her examination of a corpse--just a normal heart attack victim that didn’t make it to the hospital fast enough, he thought, recalling the paperwork he’d signed earlier. They had a lot of those in New York City, and he was unsurprised to see that the woman’s skin was dark. 

But he had more on his mind at the moment than the plight of people of color. Edrisa finally looked up from making her Y-incision, startled, and then smiled at him and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Hello!” Just as suddenly, she looked confused and frowned, peering back down at the corpse. “This wasn’t a murder?” she half-asked, half said. 

“No.” Somehow he felt even worse than he had last night, when he was doing whatever he’d done with the kid. This was a terrible idea. At the same time, he knew Edrisa had the information he wanted. JT, on the other hand, who would have been his first choice if he’d had a choice...probably didn’t. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Why? I mean, not that you’re not welcome in the morgue,” she added hastily, her smile twisting into something a little more self-deprecating. “You know I always love to see you. But, um, why are you here?” 

Why indeed. Gil took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “I wanted to talk with you,” he started. 

“Oh no!” Now she looked guilty. “Was there something wrong with my last report?”

“What? No, no, nothing like that, Edrisa.” Gil couldn’t help but sigh again as he waved his hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. “I just want to talk to you about something. Not related to work,” he added hastily. “Personal.” 

“Oh! Sure!” Edrisa was now beaming. “I didn’t think you liked me enough to talk about personal things! What’s up, bestie?” She made air quotes around the word despite the scalpel in her hand.

 _She must be so lonely,_ Gil thought briefly. It was certainly something he could sympathize with; there hadn’t been anyone serious in his life since Jackie. Still, he knew he had to start by setting some boundaries. “If I talk to you, you can’t tell anyone else.” 

“Sure. Lips sealed.” She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Gil leaned a hip against the door he’d come through. “You’ve, uh, mentioned BDSM before.” 

“Sure, I dabb--oh! Is this about last night? Did you see something in the club that confused you?” Edrisa asked. 

Something in Gil relaxed; here was an opening he could exploit without giving her any personal details. “Yeah, actually...honestly I’m confused about most of it. When I was growing up, there was gay or straight and you were one or the other.” 

“Oh yeah, no, that’s not the case anymore. You’ve got bisexuals, pansexuals, demisexuals...even asexuals, but they don’t want to be with anyone,” she told him, counting off on her fingers without cutting anything but air. 

Gil blinked at the flood of information. “What are all those?”

“Well, bisexuals are attracted to both men and women. Then there are pansexuals--they’re attracted to everyone, including genderfluid and nonbinary people, although sometimes bisexuals are too; different people have different definitions of the two words.” Edrisa slowly relaxed as she began using her lecturing voice. “Demisexuals have to have known someone for years and formed a deep emotional connection before they feel like having sex with anyone. Asexuals don’t feel any sexual attraction at all.” 

“There are really...that many categories of people?” Gil asked, feeling his eyebrows raise. 

“Sure. And then there’s a romantic spectrum too--whether you like romantic things or not. I’m definitely _not_ aromantic.” She both grinned and nodded this time, as if that was obvious. That done, she leaned down and began lengthening her incision.

It wasn’t obvious to Gil, but he just barely managed to avoid reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose and showing it. “All right...so then, what does ‘topping from the bottom’ mean?”

“Well, you know what tops and bottoms are, right?” Edrisa glanced up at him. “...You don’t. Okay, okay, sorry. In gay sex, the man who penetrates is the top, and the one who is penetrated is the bottom.” Gil desperately tried not to picture himself ‘topping’ Malcolm’s ‘bottom,’ but felt himself flush anyway. “It’s not very precise, because even with gay couples not every Dom is a top and not every sub is a bottom, but informally Doms are sometimes called tops, and subs bottoms. Topping from the bottom is when a sub controls the scene even though the Dominant is technically in charge.” 

“Why would anyone want to be a sub?” If that was a bit blurted, well, Gil couldn’t help it. 

This time, when Edrisa looked up, she seemed confused. When she realized she needed to answer this question, too, she shrugged. “I’m not, but a lot of people like to give up control during sex. Especially control freaks, believe it or not.” Peering at him, she asked, “Do you think you’re a sub? Because you’re _definitely_ a control freak. Er. I _totally_ meant that in a, ‘yay, control freaks hanging out together’ way, not a ‘control freaks are bad’ way.”

“No, I--I mean, with Jackie,” and here Gil was blushing again, “I liked to be in charge. I guess I meant--” he added, before she could continue, “how do the submissives not get serial killed all the time, if they give up that kind of control?” 

“Oh! I get you!” She smiled at him, then looked back down at her scalpel and continued to slice. “First, before a BDSM scene, you have to talk with your partner about what you both do and don’t like--set hard and soft limits, things like that. Then, during the scene, if you don’t like something, you just safeword out.” 

“Safeword?” Gil was vaguely familiar with the concept, but still asked for clarification, sensing he was on less shaky ground here. 

“A word either the submissive or the dominant can use to stop the scene, right then and there. They’re practically sacred. Believe you me, you don’t get asked back to a club if you don’t respect a safeword.” She chuckled, then darted a slightly frightened look at him. “Not that I--I mean, I would never--” she groaned. “I just saw a guy keep going afterward, once, and everyone else stopped what they were doing to get him away from the submissive and then threw him out of the club. I _always_ stop if someone uses a safeword.” 

“You said both submissives and dominants can use safewords? Why would you need one if you’re a dominant?”

Edrisa shrugged. “Because sometimes a scene goes in a direction you don’t expect, or you think you’re okay with something and then you’re not when you’re in the moment, or you just get a bit overwhelmed. Doms safeword out all the time.” From the look on her face, she’d likely done it once or twice. 

“One more question,” Gil told her, watching her pull out her rib cutters out and wincing. He had no problem with dead bodies, but the sound of bones cracking… “I heard a sub calling a dominant Daddy, and the dominant called the sub baby boy. Does that...mean something?”

“Just that they’re into age play.” He watched her set the tool into the corpse and gritted his teeth as the first rib snapped. “Some people like to have their dominants treat them like they’re children. It’s a thing, like foot kink. Some people like it, some don’t. Me, I think feet are totally gross,” she made a face as she snapped a few more ribs--which clearly didn’t trouble her in the least. 

“Okay.” Gil nodded slowly, and tried to think if there was anything else he was technically confused about--besides his feelings for Malcolm. When he couldn’t come up with anything--especially as she moved the rib cutter to the other side, he added, “Thanks, Edrisa.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, maybe we could make this a thing? You know, you come down here on the regular and ask me about stuff?” She looked hopeful. 

“I’ll try,” Gil promised, and he really meant it. Talking with the… _eccentric_...medical examiner had helped him a great deal. Now, he thought, he needed to go for a long walk. Then...then he would have to confront Malcolm. And that wasn’t going to be easy.

.oOOo.

Gil considered going home, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without having that Talk with Malcolm. He eventually made his way to Malcolm’s loft, knowing that the kid wouldn’t be asleep either. The outer door had gotten stuck on some trash and hadn’t closed, so Gil just let himself in. With one final deep breath, he knocked on the apartment door. 

He heard a response that sounded vaguely like ‘come in,’ so he did, not at all happy about the fact that Malcolm’s door was unlocked--he locked it behind him. The lights were off, so Sunshine didn’t tweet a greeting as she normally did. 

Gil knew there was more to Malcolm’s mental problems than just the mania; he’d seen Bright in one or two of his depressive episodes before. Still, he was surprised by how quickly things had gone downhill in the other man’s apartment as he flicked the lights on. Sunshine was unfed, the paper at the bottom of the cage dirty. Malcolm was on the couch, still dressed in the filthy leather shorts. He’d pulled a blanket on top of himself, but haphazardly so it wasn’t actually covering much of anything. 

Malcolm was laying on his side, staring off into space. “Have you eaten, kid?” Gil wasn’t the least bit surprised when Malcolm shook his head no, and walked straight to the refrigerator to see what Malcolm had in it. 

“Just tell me,” came a groan from the couch. 

“Tell you what, kid?” Gil asked, pulling out ingredients he could use to make soup. 

“That I’m off the team.” Oops. Gil hadn’t realized Bright was in quite _that_ deep of a funk. Setting a carrot down next to some celery, he made his way over to the couch and crouched in front of Malcolm. 

“Bright, you’re not off the team.” 

Malcolm’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “I’m not?”

Gil sighed deeply. “No, you’re not. Whether or not I like your methods, Bright, you catch killers. I’m here to talk about what happened between us.” He watched Malcolm’s face shut down again, and his heart hurt. “I’m not mad at you, kid. I won’t lie, I’m not _happy_ with how you sprung this on me, but still. It’s very… _you_ to take advantage of a situation like that. But we need to talk about this like actual adults before this goes any further. First--you like being ordered around, right? Go take a shower and get dressed while I make you something to eat.” 

Malcolm looked bemused at first, but then his eyes lit up a little as Gil continued. “Yes, Daddy.” 

“Uh-uh.” Gil waggled a finger at Malcolm. “ _No_ even somewhat sexual stuff until we’ve had our conversation.” 

Malcolm swallowed hard, and then nodded. “Okay.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position while Gil turned and went back to the kitchen. 

Gil watched him head to the bathroom out of the corner of his eye, as he started to make Malcolm dinner. Jackie had been the real cook in their relationship, but over the past three years he had gotten to the stage where he was able to make things edible. Mostly edible, anyway, and it wasn’t as if it was possible to mess chicken noodle soup up too much. 

When Malcolm came out of the bathroom, he was dressed in his normal lounging-around-the-house T-shirt and sweats. Without saying a word, he went to take care of Sunshine, who happily tweeted at him and then began eating as soon as he’d filled her dish with parakeet pellets. 

“Soup’s almost done,” Gil told him, as he changed out the paper in her cage. “Just a few more minutes.” 

“Thanks, Gil,” Malcolm muttered as he took a seat at the breakfast bar and started to sort out the medications that he needed to take with food. 

“Kid, you _really_ need to start taking better care of yourself,” Gil told him gently as he set a steaming bowl of soup in front of him. “You care too much about what others think of you.” 

“So, I’m just like my parents?” Malcolm shot him a look, but picked up his spoon and started eating, blowing on the spoonfuls so they wouldn’t burn him. 

Gil grimaced, and shook his head. “No, kid, you’re not a narcissist. The problem is you don’t like yourself _enough_.” He hesitated; he hadn’t wanted to get into this until after Malcolm had eaten, but… “Look at what happened when you thought I was mad at you; you shut down completely. You’re a good person, Malcolm, no matter what I may or may not think of you.”

Gil saw Bright’s lips tremble, saw the slight shine in his eyes, and turned around to give the kid a little privacy. He rinsed off the utensils he’d used to make the soup and then put them in the dishwasher. When he turned back, Bright was composed again and a decent amount of soup was missing from the bowl. So were the meds he’d set out. _Okay, time to do this_ , Gil told himself. 

“I want to make something clear to you, Malcolm--we’re friends. And no matter what else happens, I’m your friend, and I’m going to be there for you. Now...how long have you felt this way about me?” Gil settled onto a stool opposite Malcolm’s. 

Malcolm’s eyes shone for a moment when Gil told him they’d always be friends, but then he looked down at his soup. With a sigh, he scooped up a spoonful before admitting, “Years.” 

“Okay,” Gil replied. “Thank you for telling me that. I’m going to be completely honest with you. Until yesterday, I thought I was completely straight, so this is all very confusing. I talked with Edrisa about it--”

“You talked with Edrisa about us?!?” Malcolm’s head snapped up, his eyes widened in horror. 

“No, not about _us._ Just general things. I passed it off like I was asking about things I’d seen in the club,” Gil assured him, and Bright relaxed. “Anyway, she said something about some people...hemisexuals, I think?”

“Demisexuals,” Malcolm corrected, going back to his soup.

“Right. People who...have to really connect with someone before they can have sex with them?”

“Yes,” Malcolm confirmed. 

“I think I might be like that,” Gil explained. “I don’t do casual sex. And I never really thought about you that way until last night. But when I did--” he trailed off, not sure how to finish. 

“You liked it?” Malcolm asked hopefully. 

Gil nodded. “Yeah, I did,” he confirmed. “God help me, but I did. So now I’m trying to sort out who I am, what I like, why I liked it…add in being Catholic and it’s a lot all at once for me.”

“That makes sense. You’re having to re-evaluate a major part of your identity; that’s not easy.” The look Malcolm was giving him said that he knew a thing or two about re-evaluating your identity, and Gil supposed he did. 

“When did you know you were...bisexual, is it?” Gil asked him, partly to take some of the pressure off of himself. 

“Pan, actually. Late high school, early college,” Malcolm responded. “A submissive...earlier than that.” Gil very determinedly did not think about Malcolm when he was that age. “Most people go through an experimentation phase, where they figure out what they do and don’t like...but you never had that, did you?”

Gil shook his head. “Jackie and I married as soon as I was out of the Academy. And we just...weren’t very adventurous, I guess.”

Malcolm grinned. “So you need a safe space--and a partner you’re attracted to--to experiment.” 

Gil had no idea how Malcolm had turned it around so suddenly he was doing _Gil_ a favor here, but he had to admit the kid had a point. “That...wouldn’t be unwelcome, no. But, Malcolm...part of me is worried that we’ll start experimenting and then we’ll end up realizing we’re just better as friends.”

Bright chuckled, mischief in his eyes. “We could be friends with benefits, you know,” he pointed out. 

Gil waved a dismissive hand. “You know what I mean, Bright.” 

Malcolm sobered. “Yeah. But this is my decision too, and I’d rather try and find out we are better as just friends than not try at all.”

“Good point.” Gil nodded, studying Malcolm’s face. “I’m also...not entirely sure I can give you what you need.” 

Bright’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The entire submissive thing,” Gil said. “A spanking’s one thing, but I don’t actually want to _hurt_ you.” 

“That’s because you’re not a classical sadist,” Malcolm told him. “But that’s okay, Gil, really. First, what I really need is someone in control--and you do that just fine; you’re a natural Dom. Second, a slap or a fist in my hair only hurts for a moment; it’s not like I want you to do any permanent damage. Besides, we could work up to some of the higher pain levels,” he said, getting excited. “We could use the stoplight system; normally it’s used for subs, but I think we could modify it so it would work for you.”

“Woah, kid.” Gil held both hands up in a placating gesture. “Can we please just...take this slowly?”

“Okay,” Bright still looked as if the tiny hamsters in his brain were running at full tilt, but at least he shut up. “Sorry, Gil.” 

“That’s okay. Just remember, it’s a lot for me. I think I’ll feel better if, when we start trying things, we talk about them first. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, but...speaking of discussing this…” Malcolm shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. “Could I suck you off? Now? Then we could go back to talking if you want? Please?”

Gil’s cock twitched, and he considered. They’d covered...well, the basics, he supposed. “I...all right. But what’s your safeword?”

Malcolm beamed at him. “Therapy, what’s yours?”

Gil’s mind, of course, helpfully went blank. “I...uh, I didn’t think of one. What about...Jackie?”

The look on Malcolm’s face gave Gil his answer. “I don’t think you want to use her name as a safeword. Something else you don’t like. Uh...what about…”

“Paperwork!” Gil supplied, and they both laughed, easing some of the tension in the room.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Malcolm told him. “Would it be all right if I called you Daddy instead of Gil?”

Gil considered that. “We can...try it. But you know it’s weird, right?”

“I know, I know. Jung would have a field day. But you didn’t seem to mind it in the club, so I thought maybe…”

“And you want me to call you baby boy?”

“Please...Daddy?” Gil found he didn’t mind the term, even though it sounded strange coming from Malcolm. 

“All right. I’ll try. Now come here.” Gil stood up, grabbed a towel, and walked over to the couch before sitting down. An eager-looking Malcolm was hot on his heels, and sank to his knees in front of him. Gil, however, set the towel down next to them and patted his lap. “Come up here first, baby boy. I--Daddy--wants to start off slow.”

“Okay, Daddy!” Malcolm got up and then sat down in Gil’s lap. It was obvious from the tent in his yoga pants that the kid wanted this; Gil just hoped that, once they got into it a little further, he’d want it too. 

He began by framing Bright’s face with his hands. The man really was handsome. He pulled Malcolm closer, and initiated the kiss this time. Prepared, he was able to take control and still analyze how he felt about it. Malcolm was not a bad kisser--maybe not as experienced as some, and a bit hasty, but quite nice all the same. He relinquished the lead carefully, letting Gil lick into his mouth and kiss him deeply. 

When they broke for air a few minutes later, Gil met Malcolm’s eyes again. “How was that, baby boy?”

“Good, Daddy, it was really good. Did you like it?” Malcolm asked. 

“I did. Now, are you sure you want to suck my cock? I’m old enough I may not be able to get it up again tonight if you make me come,” he said, running one of his hands down Bright’s back. 

“I’m sure, Daddy! I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel last night!” Malcolm hopped off his lap and went to his knees again in between Gil’s thighs. 

Gil briefly wondered if he should correct Bright for taking the initiative, but realized that while they had agreed on a bit of roleplaying, they hadn’t actually agreed on being dominant and submissive tonight. That actually helped him get into the right headspace; it was one fewer thing to worry about. Still, he had to caution, “Take your time,” when Malcolm nearly ripped his belt from the loops. 

“Sorry, Daddy.” Malcolm smirked up at him, and Gil began to fully understand the phrase ‘topping from the bottom.’ Bright would likely earn a lot of punishments if they did decide to do a BDSM scene. 

Soon after that--bliss. Gil groaned, and leaned his head back as Malcolm quickly sucked him down. Only a few moments passed, however, before he looked back down and grabbed Bright’s head. “Go slow!” he admonished. “Make it last, baby boy.” 

Malcolm pulled off long enough to gasp in a breath and say, “Yes, Daddy.” Gil kept his hands on Bright’s head, forcing him to go slowly. Malcolm, the little shit that he was, did everything he could to counteract the slow pace, from swirling his tongue to hollowing his cheeks on the upstroke. The results were...good. Very good. Gil heard himself let out a groan as he let Malcolm pick up the pace ever so slightly. 

“Your mouth is amazing, baby boy,” he said, looking down to see Malcolm’s lips stretched around his cock with his arms clasped behind his back--a sight that significantly improved the experience. Bright moaned around his dick in response, and Gil very much enjoyed that too. He did wish, briefly, that he could see Bright naked, but couldn’t bear to have him stop at this point. Gil might be more experienced at kissing, but Malcolm would definitely win a cock-sucking contest. And anyway, they could do that later. 

Gil had stamina--really, he did--but it had been too long, and Malcolm was good at this. It seemed like barely any time before he had to gasp, “Baby boy...I’m close...gonna--OH GOD!” Bright had swallowed Gil’s cock all the way down, so his nose was pressed against his greying pubic hair. Gil closed his eyes as he felt himself come, hearing and feeling Malcolm swallow everything down. He slumped back onto the couch and opened his eyes as Malcolm licked him clean and then tucked him back into his pants. 

“Did you like that, Daddy?” Malcolm asked, his tone perfectly innocent. 

“I did, baby boy. Come up here and cuddle with Daddy?” Gil said, patting the space next to him. 

Of course, Malcolm climbed into his lap instead, burying his face in Gil’s neck. Gil held him for a little while, and then turned him around so that Bright’s back was to his front. “Sit up a little, baby boy,” he instructed. When Malcolm did, he pushed the yoga pants and boxer briefs down far enough that his cock sprang free. 

“Do you want Daddy to give you a hand with that, Br--baby boy?” Gil asked. 

“Yes, please, Daddy!” 

Gil laid the towel across Bright’s lap so there’d be less of a mess in the end, and then took hold of him. Malcolm had been leaking precome while he’d sucked Gil off, so Gil smeared that down his shaft to provide some lube before he started jerking him off. 

Malcolm moaned. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby boy.” Aside from the grown man squirming on his lap, it wasn’t that different from getting himself off. Gil deliberately went slow, however, and soon Malcolm was panting and writhing in his grip. 

“Faster, please, Daddy!”

“No. _You_ need to learn just how good slow and sweet can be, baby boy,” Gil told him, kissing the back of his flushed neck. 

Soon, Malcolm was begging for him to go faster non-stop, and Gil had to pull his head back and kiss him thoroughly to get him to shut up. Not once, however, did he increase his pace. 

“Please...Daddy, can I come, Daddy? Please?” At least the subject of Malcolm’s begging changed as he got closer to orgasm. 

“Yes, baby boy, any time,” Gil said, kissing the back of his neck again. He reached around with his other hand and rolled Malcolm’s balls, which promptly drew up next to his body. 

“DADDY!” Malcolm screamed as he came. Gil jacked him through his orgasm, then slowly let up so as not to overstimulate him. Malcolm collapsed against him, boneless, as he cleaned up a few spatters with the towel. 

He held Bright as the kid came down from his high. Eventually, Malcolm found the energy to turn his head and look at Gil. “Did you like it, Daddy?”

He had, and Gil smiled at him before pecking him on the lips. “I did. Do you want to pull up your pants and then we can cuddle?”

“Yes, Daddy. Will you stay the night?” Malcolm asked, fixing his briefs and pants before turning so he could put his arms around Gil’s neck. 

“Do you want me to, baby boy?” Gil asked. He considered the idea; he’d have to get up early in order to get back to his apartment and change before going into work tomorrow, but he thought he could make it work. 

“Yes, please, Daddy.” 

“Such a polite boy.” Gil ran his hands through Malcolm’s hair. “Give Daddy a kiss?”

Malcolm seemed happy to oblige.

As The 'Dreese would say, Experiment 1 was a great success.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @masterpieceofturkeycleverness!


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